Hail Mary
by Semjaza
Summary: Lady is haunted by a demon she cannot see. Dante is, as usual, less than helpful. Will he be able to help her save herself, or will the huntress be condemned to a horrific fate? Slight x-over with Paranormal Activity. Dante x Lady, mature content.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry or Paranormal Activity. You're shocked at this news, I'm sure.

Notes: This chapter is rated M for language, but in future chapters the rating will be for violence and gore, blasphemy, and sex. Pairing is Dante x Lady. This isn't in the crossovers section, as I'm not using characters from Paranormal Activity. I'm taking themes from the film and using them as a backdrop to explore the friendship/relationship between Dante and Lady. Set between DMC3 and DMC1, about 10 months after the end of DMC3. I apologize for the suckiness of this prologue; it's slow and the style's kind of fighting me.

Oh, and I do recall reading one other DMC fanfic that brought themes from PA into the DMC universe, but I cannot for the life of me recall its title or author. Props to you anyway, lol. :D This was written while listening to Mt Eden Dubstep and Deftones and Wild Strawberries (whose lyrics to "I Don't Want to Think About It" begin this) but if you wanted something spookier, I'd suggest "Don't Go to Sleep Without Me" by The Creatures, haha.

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><p><span>Hail Mary<span>

_You rendered me conscious  
><em>_You cut my innocent face  
><em>_I'm not really bitter  
><em>_Then again I'm not amused  
><em>_I just want to kick you till you cry  
><em>_I loved I really loved you_

She woke up drowning, flailing in the darkness of her room for a light and a gun. A thrashing arm knocked the lamp off the nightstand and onto the floor, the sound of glass splintering into a thousand pieces barely registering in her mind. Her breathing was too fast, but she was still half-asleep, running on auto-pilot and unable to focus enough to slow it down. Blood pounded in her ears as she fumbled in the pitch blackness, her bed-sheets entwined around her. Trembling fingers swept under her pillow, meeting cold steel and clutching at it desperately.

Even ten seconds out of a deep sleep, it wasn't difficult to slide the safety off the M-9 pistol and become utterly still, waiting. The silence of the room was oppressive, and she took a shuddering breath. Nude save for a thin pair of panties, Lady forcedly suppressed a shiver at the room's chill temperature. Her hands, clasping the Beretta carefully, never wavered. She couldn't see, but that wasn't an impossible obstacle. She could kill in the dark as well as any of the hell-spawn she hunted.

A moment later, Lady's mind woke up enough to catch up to her body's reflexes. She realized she'd been dreaming, probably of something nightmarish, given the way her sheets were wound around her bare legs. Still, years of being attacked by hideous monsters lurking in dark rooms made her hesitate. She trusted her intuition, and had faith that sometimes her body and subconscious mind worked together to process information and plan a course of action before she'd even realized there was a problem. Dante teasingly called her a ninja, and although her reflexes sometimes appeared preternaturally fast, Lady knew it was only practice, and luck, that had kept her alive all these years.

The young woman remained in place for another minute, counting her heartbeats to keep the time. Demons were impatient creatures, driven to slake their thirsts without hesitation or remorse, and would not be able to out-wait her. Figuring that she would have at least been drooled on by now if there was anything else in the room with her, Lady leaned forward slowly, leaving the pistol in her left hand and feeling for the nightstand with her right. Deft fingers found a drawer handle and softly tugged it open. Pushing aside pens, paper, and other debris without a rustle, she located a flashlight, and holding it carefully, eased back into her original position.

The click of the flashlight turning on was unsettlingly loud, and Lady stifled a flinch at the sound. She scanned the room swiftly, illuminating each corner in turn. No grinning hell-beasts to her left or right, no slime-covered half-rotten angels cleaving to the ceiling. And as her bed was little more than a box-spring and mattress placed directly on the floor, she was certain no horrors lurked beneath her, either. It was almost a little disappointing, really.

The lithe huntress heaved a sigh, untangling her long, scarred legs as best she could. She snapped the M-9's safety back into place, turned off the flashlight, and tucked both under her pillow. Stretching the tension out of her aching back, she settled back down into the bed, tugging the sheets up over her. _Just some sort of fucked up dream that bled over into wakefulness… A waste of time. _Lady relaxed swiftly, drifting down towards a deep slumber as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She was nearly there, almost completely enveloped in the languid ocean of sleep, when the glass on the floor moved. It was a subtle, tingling sound, as though a piece of the lamp had cracked, yet had hesitated to fall apart until this very instant. Or if a draft had caught a sliver poised to fall and pushed it over the edge. Lady tensed immediately, caught her breath and held it, waiting.

Nothing. The room was quiet, devoid of sound. Lady silently mocked herself for being such a goddamn baby, and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>The morning sun seeping through the blinds was hellishly bright, and Lady winced and wiped at her bleary eyes. She sat up and surveyed her room dismally, her mismatched eyes drifting over the soft green paint and simple furniture. Stark, Zen Buddhist artwork adorned each wall, complementing her minimalist style. It would've made for a picture of serenity, had it not been for the shell-casings and spare ammunition that littered every available surface, and the bloodied clothing and body armour tossed over the back of a chair.<p>

The remains of her lamp still glittered on the floor, and Lady scowled, reaching for her combat boots. _Jumping at nothing. Dante will get a good laugh over this._ She laced on the footwear and trudged through the glass to the bathroom, gazing wearily at her reflection.

Constant activity, usually in the form of gruesome slaughter, kept her lean. She wasn't tall, but she liked her long legs and graceful curves. Her scars had long since ceased to bother her, and she considered them a natural hazard of her chosen profession. The huntress took a moment to tease a knot from her dark, glossy bangs, noticing for the first time four angry red scratches across her clavicle. It almost looked as though someone had dragged their fingernails over her flesh, raising welts in their wake. _Must've scratched myself when I was rolling around last night. That's a piss-off. _

Sighing softly, the young woman kicked off her boots and stepped out of her panties, walking leisurely towards the glass shower stall. She paused at the sink to offer water to a half-dead houseplant that sat on the countertop, wondering why she bothered trying to keep it alive. Lady gave it a week, tops, before it ended up in the compost where its six predecessors had met their ends. She failed at domesticity, but she could hit a thrown penny with a pistol at two-hundred-fifty yards, and that was all that mattered.

Lady climbed into the shower and started the water running. It was hot nearly instantaneously, and she stepped into the stream. She relaxed as the soothing liquid cascaded down her body, flowing in rivulets along her scars. Steam, scented with a darkly floral soap, filled the small room and fogged the glass of the stall. Lady was rinsing the last of her shampoo from her hair when the water went icy, shockingly cold.

"Goddamnit," she hissed, reaching down to turn off the taps. With a screech, they twisted in her hands, shutting down the water. Lady shoved at the glass door, only to have it refuse to open. _There's no fucking way I'm getting stuck in my shower. _She applied more pressure carefully, not wanting to damage the glass and end up having to replace it. It declined to move. Lady resisted the urge to simply put her fists through it, and paused to consider the situation. The door must've warped in its frame, or something.

She slid her fingers over the glass carefully, checking the seals and edges for any changes. The door was still fogged from the steam, and there were handprints on the glass that did not belong to her. Lady felt a jolt of adrenaline streak down her spine; what would've sent many other women into fits of terrified crying merely exhilarated the huntress. She'd only passed up one fight in her life, and then not by choice. The prints were puzzling, though. They were clearly fresh, but one swipe of an elegant hand confirmed that they on the inside of the glass. With her.

_Well. This one's new. _A quick glance around the shower stall, floor to ceiling, revealed nothing but pale tile surrounding her. Lady twisted her hair in her hands to wring it out, calculating her next move. She was turning to try the door again when the pipes gurgled, and scalding hot water shot from the shower, dousing her before she could crouch out of the stream.

"Mother fucker," she winced, fumbling with the taps which were, to all appearances, still turned off all the way. The metal was soon too hot to touch without raising blisters on her already calloused fingers, and it was becoming uncomfortably warm inside the stall. The huntress inhaled slowly, steam threatening to sear her throat. Stray drops of nearly boiling water flicked onto her pale skin, and Lady decided she'd had enough of this game.

She drew back her fist to hit the glass, wondering if she'd be able to put enough weight into the punch for it to be effective. Dropping her shoulder into it would leave her neck too vulnerable, and as her job demanded mobility, risking a kick was out of the question. Before she could smash the glass, the pipes rattled again, the flow of water stopping abruptly. Lady immediately tried the door, and it slid open easily at her touch.

All sense of relaxation having long since fled, Lady hastily towelled herself dry. She didn't scare easily, and she wasn't afraid now. Demons occasionally tried to follow her home, but she'd always blown their brains out before they could catch her. It was intensely irritating to be toyed with, she mused, yanking a comb through her dark hair with a little too much force. _But maybe it wasn't a demon at all. I could just be over-reacting. The door might've just stuck on its own, and this is an old building, with old pipes. I'm making something out of nothing. _

Deciding her shower escapade was the result of an over-tired mind and bad plumbing, Lady gracefully sauntered back to inspect the glass door. She could not find any prints on it but her own, and satisfied in her theory, she went to get dressed for work.

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><p>Uh, yeah. Kind of an epic fail; this did not translate from my brain into words very well. I'm thinking the flow will be better once Dante shows up; I'm finding it extremely difficult to write Lady all by herself. Hopefully someone's interesting in seeing where I'm going with this, otherwise it will just remain on my laptop, being lame with all the other crap I'm too embarrassed about to post. So review, or flame, or something. Please. :)<p> 


	2. Careful

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry or Paranormal Activity. Rated M for language, violence, blasphemy, sexuality, and weird/disturbing content.

A/N: Sorry for the wait. It's well-established that I fail at updating regularly, mostly because I'm always at work, but also (specifically for this fic) because I'm a big chicken, and I don't want to think about horror films before bed. Anyway, thank you to everyone (XoStrawberrykissXo, MarinaEverlasting, Blood of Dusk, Varanus, KuteInsanity, RimZtheNonForgiveR, Emily, Da'Burgh73, BattleGoddess126, Xain Vandel, UnknownAlien, Ivory Tears, ClouDy SkieZ1, ALittleBitOfHocusPocus, zenbon zakura) who took the time to review; I really appreciate it. Oh, and please note that you don't have to have seen Paranormal Activity to understand this story. I've only seen the first one, so no worries about any sort of complex plot interaction there, haha. :D

Hmm… I'm choosing to write this as a kind of established pairing (yeah, again) although unlike _AutoEroticism_, I want Dante and Lady to be still at the stage where they're not really comfortable around each other. This should go a bit faster now 'cause I have my plot more figured out. And it's going to slide back and forth from each perspective, 'cause I fail. Proper characterization is a bitch. Lyrics are from Wild Strawberries' _Careful_.

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><p><span>Hail Mary<span>

_She don't really love you  
><em>_She don't understand  
><em>_What she's got between the precious creases of her hands_

The touch was feather-light, as though a gossamer thread of spider's silk had drifted across the room and brushed against her bare skin. The huntress dozed on, caught between sleep and wakefulness, dragged under by sheer physical and mental exhaustion. Lady fought it; she had plans for this evening, contacts to meet and information to research. But she'd been on her feet all day, chasing a skeletal creature through what must have been every dark alley in the entire goddamn city, and it had been easy to sit on her sofa afterwards, relaxed from her shower and wrapped in a towel.

She hadn't been sleeping well lately, but then she'd only had this apartment for a few weeks now, and unlike Dante, she needed time to adjust to new places. The building had its quirks; sometimes doors stuck in their frames and refused to open, other times they insisted on opening when there was no breeze or draft to push them. She'd had no further episodes with her shower stall, although her landlord swore on his life that he'd checked the pipes and found nothing amiss.

Lady sighed and stretched languidly, unable to open her eyes or focus her thoughts. She wasn't afraid of an old building's strangeness, and even if it did have a malevolent ghost or two, which she doubted, it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. She drifted further towards sleep, her mind's half-hearted protests unable to coalesce into coherent thought. The room grew slightly colder, and the lithe woman shuffled down deeper into the couch cushions, her exposed flesh chilled by the draft.

The second touch was as soft as the first, barely registering in Lady's subconscious. Smoother than a breath of air, gentler than an exhalation; it was more the idea of a caress than a caress itself. The slightest, almost imperceptible change in pressure and temperature against the huntress' pale skin produced a shiver, and Lady murmured drowsily, almost completely enveloped in slumber. What might have been fingertips skimmed over her leg, stroking the side of her knee, sliding up her exposed thigh to trace her scars.

The woman's eyes fluttered, sightless, as weariness defeated her. She slid into a hazy, dusky dream, her head lolling limply against the arm of the couch. The touches began again, starting at her ankles and slowly stroking up her calves, insinuating themselves into her dreamscape as gently as a lover. A tongue brushed behind the crook of her knee, and in her dream Lady gave a pleased gasp. It moved further up her legs, slick searing heat caressing her skin and flooding her senses.

Aroused, the huntress stirred in her sleep, lost in the reverie. She felt a warm breath exhaled slowly against her flesh, ghosting over her inner thighs. A sigh escaped her lips as she felt the flick of a tongue against her clit, the noise turning into a groan as the wet muscle thrust into her. It was followed by the press of teeth, and Lady hummed contentedly before the thought registered in her dreaming mind. _Sharp. Like needles. The teeth are sharp. Wha-?_

Her body jerked as she forced herself to wakefulness, the faint blush of arousal colouring her scarred skin. Lady sat up blearily, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, suddenly cold. _What the fuck was that about?_ She reached to turn on the lamp on the end-table, swinging her legs over the edge of the sofa, and startling as the soft glow illuminated the room. Angry red scratches marred her skin from hip to ankle. Her towel lay crumpled on the floor six feet away.

* * *

><p>"So you think there's something here with you?"<p>

Dante sat in her cramped kitchen, perched on a barstool and looking utterly massive in the small space. He rested his elbows on the countertop, hunched under the low-hanging lights. His scarlet trench-coat pooled around him, maybe a bit too warm for the weather yet, but still useful for concealing illegally-modified firearms. The slayer yawned and stretched, appraising her with frosty eyes, probably half-miffed about being woken from his nap by her phone-call.

Lady turned to rummage through her fridge in search of alcohol. She didn't look at the man, choosing her words carefully. "I'm not sure. There've been incidents, but, it's like…" she stopped. "I can explain them away, if I try. Technically, nothing's happened that couldn't be explained rationally. It's an old building, and I have nightmares sometimes, and maybe I scratched myself somehow." The huntress paused to examine her nails, cut nearly to the quick. "I'm probably just spooking myself," she admitted, straightening up in time to catch Dante staring at her ass.

Warning him off with a dark look, she held up her findings. "Carlsberg or Bud? That's all I have for beer. Might be a bottle of Riesling around, I can't remember if I drank it."

"I hate wine," Dante muttered, taking the proffered beer. Lady kicked the fridge shut, sending a flurry of paper take-out menus and gym hours to the floor. She left them where they fell and took the stool beside Dante, resting her bare feet against the rungs of his seat. He flicked a sidelong glance towards her, as though he was surprised she'd gotten so close to him.

Ten months ago, when they'd first crossed paths, she never could've imagined how they'd end up. They were probably an odd partnership, polar opposites in some ways, but perfectly compatible, she figured, in others. And she wasn't afraid of him, not one bit, despite the fact that he always seemed to expect her to be. Lady wasn't made of glass, but she was unsure how many more black eyes Dante would need before he was convinced of that fact as well.

"It's probably nothing," the slayer mused, bringing the young woman's thoughts back to the situation at hand. "Demons don't play around, for the most part. They're blunt. To the point. If it can't run you down and tear you to bits, it's probably not interested. A demon's too impatient to, I dunno, fiddle with your shower taps. If it were that close, it would've just attacked you."

"That's what I figured. And I don't think I'm haunted, so don't give me that look," Lady punctuated her statement with a kick at Dante's shin, and the man tried to stop smirking at her. She took a sip of her beer, her mismatched eyes meeting Dante's playful ones. _Great. Now he looks mischievous. I'm going to have to kick his ass to get him to leave._ "I'm probably just over-tired. I chased that skeleton-thing all over hell and creation. It was a bitch to kill once I cornered it, too."

"So what happened tonight?" Dante asked softly, one hand dropping down to rest on Lady's knee, calloused fingers drifting over her bare skin. When the huntress didn't immediately swat him, he left it there.

Lady took a gulp of beer before answering. "I got home, took a shower-"

"By yourself, no demons?"

"Shut-up, asshole." Another kick. "I was tired, so afterwards I sat down on the sofa for a minute. Maybe stretched out for a nap. You know how it is when you're not really awake or asleep? Well, I kind of thought something was touching me, but I couldn't wake up enough to do anything about it. And then I think I was dreaming for a while, I don't know. But when I woke up my towel was halfway across the room and there were scratches all over my legs."

"Weird," Dante mumbled, his pale eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Lady's skin. "They're gone now, though." His thumb traced over the scar on her thigh, brushing against the hem of her skirt, and the young woman forcedly stifled a gasp. She twisted away abruptly and stood, setting her drink aside.

"They were there when I woke up, and they didn't look like the type of scratch that just fades in an hour, Dante." Lady began picking the scraps of paper off the floor, reorganizing them based on which martial art the dojos and gyms advertised, and whether the take-outs delivered for free. She didn't look at the half-devil, and Dante took the hint.

"I'll look around before I go, okay?" The slayer finished his beer and stood, careful not to damage anything in Lady's tiny kitchen. While the décor was a strange mixture of red teacups and bullet-casings, he had a pretty good idea that she'd be pissed if he broke so much as a light-bulb. A small statue of the Hindu goddess Kali, Destroyer of Demons, leered from its place beside a coffeepot. An old Colt .38 Special hung on the wall behind it. Dante nodded his approval and turned to face Lady.

"Yeah, if you would, just…" Lady shrugged, looking half-embarrassed. She led him through the modest apartment, moving with a dancer's grace. Dante sauntered after her, shuffling sideways to keep his shoulders from bumping the walls in the narrow hallway. He inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of incense and gun oil and some decidedly female shampoo, but little else.

"There's nothing here, babe. Not a trace of demons 'cept for all that blood on your clothes and maybe a touch of something in those old books over there. But nothing that could do anything to you."

Lady nodded at that, looking as though her thoughts were far away. She stood barefoot in her bedroom, studying a crimson stain on a piece of body armour, seemingly oblivious to everything around her. Dante cleared his throat, and saw her startle for an instant before she repressed it.

"You're probably just tired," he suggested, almost feeling awkward. He sat down on her bed to provoke her, but the huntress just rolled her eyes and tossed the piece of Kevlar at him.

"I'm over-worked," Lady declared, stalking back towards him, her usual attitude reappearing. Dante was almost relieved to see it, for a moment. The slender woman glared at him, folding her arms over her breasts. "If you'd get up off your ass and help out more, I wouldn't be in this predicament."

"If you stopped doing extra jobs for free, you'd be better off. You'd be surprised what people can put up with if they know they'll have to pay to get rid of it." Dante stretched out, flopping back onto Lady's sheets and hearing the box-spring creak under his weight.

"I'll get them all, eventually," Lady stated matter-of-factly, only a hint of venom in her voice. She was staring at a Zenpainting, but Dante doubted it was soothing her.

"There'll always be more demons," Dante yawned, closing his eyes. "Devils too. But there's nothing here as far as I can tell."

"Yeah, you're such a great help. Get the fuck off my bed," Lady snarled dryly. When Dante opened one eye in response, she flashed him a grin so quickly he might've imagined it.

"Fine." The slayer rolled to his feet. "Ingrate."

Lady trailed him back to the kitchen, and he weighed his chances of getting gutted with a kitchen knife if he kissed her goodbye. Dante decided against it; she could be pissed off for months if he overstepped his boundaries, and he didn't know where he stood with her half the time anyway. Any display of protectiveness on his part made her furious, and given that knowledge, he couldn't figure out why she'd called him at all.

He stopped halfway out the door, turning to look at the huntress. She appeared, as always, tiny and fragile and utterly defenseless, and he knew, unequivocally, that she'd beat him bloody if he ever told her that.

"'Night, Lady. Call if you need anything." It was all he could say, really.

She nodded once, curtly, and then he closed the door and was gone. Despite the warm glow cast by her ragtag collection of lamps, the apartment turned gloomy the moment the slayer stepped out of it. The shadows cast around the small assemblage of rooms seemed strangely oppressive, and the temperature suddenly felt ten degrees colder. Lady shivered involuntarily and went to check the thermostat.

"Just a fuckin' baby. I need a drink."

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><p>I'm going to get this worked out, I swear. I just gotta get in my groove, and then I might actually have half-decent, consistent characterization. Maybe. And if you can forgive me for taking so long to do anything with this, please review and tell me. Or if you can't, flame me instead. I'll be over here, being lame and drunk. :P<p> 


	3. Interruption

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry or Paranormal Activity. Rated M for language, violence, blasphemy, sexuality, and weird/disturbing content.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed or added this to faves/alerts. Much appreciated. Initial lyrics are from "Love Interruption" by Jack White, further lyrics are from Robert Johnson's "Me and the Devil Blues." Bits of this chapter were inspired by "Cat People" (1982) and "The Faculty" (1998), kind of but not really, haha.

I thought about cutting out the entire middle section. You'll notice that it sucks significantly more than the other parts. I wanted it to feel unpolished and disorganized, as it's mostly Dante's thoughts, but… Anyway, feedback/criticism is always welcomed; sorry for the wait (again).

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><p><span>Hail Mary<span>

_I want love to roll me over slowly  
><em>_Stick a knife inside me and twist it all around  
><em>_I want love to grab my fingers gently  
><em>_Slam them in the doorway, put my face into the ground._

The chill in the apartment was irritating, and Lady decided she'd had enough of it. It was too late to meet any of her contacts now; she'd call them in the morning and rearrange her appointments. They were mostly demonologists and retired priests anyway; it wasn't as though their schedules were overly crowded. The special collections of the local library closed in five minutes, so there was little point in heading out to do some research. The librarians would probably breathe easier without a demanding young woman sending them on random searches through the dusty theological archives, anyway.

Lady spent another moment scowling at the thermostat before heading to her room and grabbing her gym-bag. She wouldn't bother with a work-out after her exhausting chase today, but a swim would be nice. _And maybe even relaxing._ Dante's words about her work had made her think; any extra stress in her life would make this demonic haunting, or whatever it was, even worse. _Of course, it wouldn't hurt him to help out more. Lazy ass. _

The huntress locked the door behind her and took the stairs two at a time, pausing at the superintendent's office on her way out. She scrawled a request for him to check the heating system in her apartment on the message board, and spent a moment searching the notes to see if anyone else in the building had any complaints. _Nope. Guess I'm the only one feeling persecuted by otherworldly enemies. Isn't that just my luck? _Shaking her head in chagrin, she left the crumbling building and headed out into the night.

The nearest pool was attached to a small boxing club, run by a middle-aged Russian immigrant named Bulgakov. He seemed to have a soft spot for Lady, claiming that her fiery spirit and quick temper reminded him of his late wife. The club was rundown but spotlessly clean, and Lady nodded to the young clerk on duty as she made her way inside.

"You've got the whole place to yourself tonight. Just let me know when you're done so I can lock up." The girl offered a small smile and immediately returned to her book.

"Sure. I'm just going to swim a few laps." Lady walked swiftly down a few dark corridors, idly wondering if money was really so tight that Bulgakov was keeping the lights off deliberately. She stepped into the women's changing room and snapped on the light-switch, waiting for the fluorescent bulbs to stop sputtering before locking the door behind her. _What's gotten in to you now? Afraid of the dark?_ Giving in to her sudden paranoia, Lady scanned the room, even checking that the bathroom stalls were empty before undressing.

Her sense of unease expanded into the feeling that she was being watched, and Lady fumbled out of her clothes, wishing she'd brought a gun with her. She did have a knife in her purse, she consoled herself, but it didn't give her the same sense of security that having a Glock's trigger under her finger provided. Rolling her eyes at her childish behaviour, the huntress tugged on her bikini bottoms and tied her top behind her back. Towel in hand, she headed for the door and unlocked it.

It refused to open. Lady fiddled with the deadbolt, making sure nothing was stuck. She gave it a kick, for good measure.

"No fucking way," she growled under her breath, her skin prickling as the room got colder. She kicked the door again, putting all her weight into it, and nearly fell forward when it slammed open with a loud bang. _I'm going to get asked to leave if I have to smash my way through every goddamn door. _

Lady stalked angrily through the dimly-lit hallway and out into the poolroom. The overhead lights, never bright, flickered ominously as she stepped across the tile floor. She glared at them, folding her arms across her breasts and assessing the situation. If there really was something after her, it wasn't like anything she'd ever encountered before. Being scratched while dozing was disgusting and creepy, but not exactly fear-inducing; it could've just been the ragged edges of her own bitten nails. And in the Temen-ni-gru, Lady had seen all of hell splayed open before her. By comparison, cold rooms and sticking doors were so minor as to be amateur.

_This is not relaxing. _Lady shoved her qualms aside and dropped her towel to the pool-deck. _I'm over-worked, and jumping at shadows. Dante's gonna laugh if he finds out I got too spooked to go swimming._ Brushing her dark hair out of her eyes, Lady strode to the water's edge and dove in. The water was almost as cold as the room. The club's owner claimed it was heated, but Lady had her doubts about that. Her body adjusted swiftly though, and she was on her fourth lap when the main set of lights sputtered out.

Treading water in the middle of the pool, Lady stared into the gloom, trying to see if the clerk was nearby. It wasn't too dark to continue swimming, but her recent luck with lights and lamps and doors made her uneasy. She exhaled slowly, her warm breath becoming visible as the temperature dropped. The water seemed to get colder too, and Lady huffed in frustration. _It's like I'm being cursed with petty inconveniences, or something. _

The slender woman struck out for the far edge of the pool, heading for the ladder. She hadn't swum more than a metre when something brushed against her leg. The touch was light, as though she'd simply grazed another swimmer in passing, or if something had tried to catch her, but she'd just escaped its grasp. The water was nearly black in the dim light, and Lady didn't bother trying to look into its depths. Adrenaline propelled her nearly to the ladder before she got a hold of herself.

_Really, now. Come on. There's jets in the pool, you idiot. Stop scaring yourself. _The huntress forced herself to turn and gaze back over the water. The only currents were those left in her wake. She sighed, shaking her head, and wiped the chlorine from her mismatched eyes. Warmth fluttered against her breasts, and Lady's heart leapt again. She forced herself backwards until the pool's edge pressed hard against her spine, but she couldn't escape the sensation. It felt like a hot mouth against her nipple, teasing her through the thin fabric of her swimsuit. Lady gasped for breath, utterly furious, and flailed for the safety of the ladder.

Something entwined itself around her legs and dragged her under.

* * *

><p>"…<em>Bury my body, down by the highway-side, so my old evil spirit, can get a Greyhound bus and ride…<em>" The blues bar stank of stale beer and cigarette smoke, but Dante found that after a couple shots of whiskey, he didn't much care. He glared at his drink, holding the tumbler so that his face was reflected in the amber liquid. Just being around Lady left Dante uneasy these days. They weren't as close as they'd once been, and how they'd gone from lovers to strictly business associates was beyond him. He didn't know how he'd managed to screw up that badly, but apparently he had, and there it was.

It took a fair bit of control to keep from crushing the glass in his hand, and he sighed as he knocked back the last of the alcohol. He didn't know what to do about Lady. He didn't even know where to begin.

If Dante had been looking for a best friend, he wouldn't have picked an angry bitch with a rocket-launcher and a grudge. If he'd been after a business partner, he wouldn't have teamed up with a poker-faced pool-hall hustler who would strip away his hard-earned cash before he could spend it. And if he'd been searching for a lover, the kind that stayed for more than just one night, he certainly wouldn't have chased after a girl that didn't seem to give a fuck whether she saw him once a week or once a month.

Lady was all of these things. _All_ of them. And he was beginning to wonder just why she bothered being any of them for him. She'd always seemed to make a point of showing him that she didn't need him, that it was he who needed her, and that their relationship was simply a series of random experiences that had occurred while they were near each other. Like it was her own bad luck that had gotten them mixed up together; not some great cosmic fate, just shitty coincidence.

He'd known Lady for ten months now, and he still didn't know much about her. Granted, as far as people knowing things about Lady went, he was probably the resident expert on the subject, but _still_. It was difficult to predict just what she might be thinking about, and if he asked her why she did something, she'd roll her eyes and demand to know why anyone did anything. Lady refused to explain herself to such an extent that Dante felt it went beyond mere stubbornness and into some sort of pathological self-defence mechanism, or something.

The half-devil threw a handful of crumpled bills onto the sticky countertop and left the bar without a word. His office was only a few blocks away, and he took his time, still lost in thought. He'd gotten used to being by himself again; it was his usual state of affairs, and he could deal with it. He and Lady had lived together for a month or two after the fall of the Temen-ni-gru, but that had been mostly because it was easier to sleep knowing that someone was nearby to shake you awake when you started screaming.

And there had been a lot of screaming in the beginning, Dante wouldn't deny it. There were some things you just couldn't un-see, some wounds that just wouldn't close, let alone scar over. He could barely even remember that first month. His memories were a smear of darkness and ashes and blood, the rush of the hunt, and the sick realization that the remaining demons were infinite in number, _legion _even, and they all knew where he lived. It had taken some getting used to, but he was adaptable. He'd managed.

Then Lady had left him, climbing out of his bed without so much as a goodbye. At first he'd thought she was tired of the incessant violence, like maybe she'd find some peace if she wasn't always around him, covered in gore. After all, it wasn't her fight anymore; she'd done what she'd had to do, and if she wanted a normal life, she only needed to claim it. He couldn't understand why she hadn't, actually, and maybe that was the real problem.

Dante reached the darkened office and shoved the doors open with unwarranted viciousness. "I have rotten luck with women," he announced to the emptiness, his presence doing little to disrupt the quiet gloom within. When the phone rang, he almost didn't bother answering.

* * *

><p>"I'm calling an ambulance. Just wait here, don't try to get up." The clerk was frantic, her hands clutching desperately at Lady's bare shoulders. Lady stared at the girl, what was her name? Margaret? Margarita? Something like that. She shook her head numbly, wiping water off her nose and noting that her fingers came away bloody.<p>

"I'm fine," she muttered brusquely, throat aching, lungs burning. "I've had a long day. Probably just slipped and hit my head or something."

The clerk cursed, looking as though she wanted to shake some sense into the huntress. "You were on the bottom of the pool. The lights were off. I pulled you out and you weren't breathing. I mean, you can't be alright." The girl rose to her feet, her clothes soaking wet, and some part of Lady's mind acknowledged that she must have dove in after her without the slightest hesitation.

"I'm okay. Really," Lady forced a smile. "Thanks for getting me out though."

The clerk eyed the young woman dubiously, then picked up Lady's discarded towel and draped it over her. "Are you sure? I can drive you to the hospital. It's no bother. Sometimes I have to drive the guys over if a fight goes wrong, or someone gets knocked out. Really, I can't just let you walk out of here. You were… I mean, I thought you'd drowned. And your swimsuit… Did someone attack you? Was there anyone else here?"

The girl babbled on, and Lady mostly tuned her out. She felt like she'd gone through a wringer, but that was hardly a new sensation. _I was swimming, wasn't I? And then what?_ She glared hard at the pool, the chlorinated water pale and unthreatening under the florescent lights. Her eyes burned from exposure to the chemicals, and Lady massaged her temples, trying to clear her head. When the dizziness had subsided, she hauled herself to her feet, reluctantly allowing the clerk to help her.

"I don't need a drive. I'll be alright, really." Lady dried her face with the towel, knowing she looked like hell. _Don't be rude. The kid probably just saved your life. _"It's been a rough day, and I shouldn't have been swimming alone. I'm just gonna have a quick shower, and then I'll be on my way." Lady tried to smile again, although the attempt resembled a rictus grin, if the clerk's expression was anything to go by.

"You're awfully calm for someone who just almost drowned. At least let me call someone to come get you. I don't think you should be left alone. And I'll go to the changing rooms with you. I'm a little creeped out myself." Margaret or Margarita gave her a sheepish look, then gripped Lady's arm firmly as they walked away from the pool. "I mean, are you sure you didn't see anyone else in here?"

"No, it was just me. Same as you said when I came in; that I had the whole place to myself. Why?"

The girl looked uncomfortable, almost like she might've burst into tears. "Well, your bikini's all ripped. Was it like that before? I didn't want to say anything, in case." She took a gulping breath and continued hurriedly. "And I heard some noises, like loud bangs, and heavy footsteps, like someone was stomping around in that end of the gym. That's actually why I came to check on you, and then when I turned on the lights and-" the clerk stopped abruptly, biting her lip. "But are you okay?"

Lady lifted her towel and peered at herself blearily. She was scratched and bruised from throat to ankle, and her swimsuit hung off her lean frame in tatters. She composed her face to hide her reaction, not wanting to scare the girl.

"I'm fine," she heard herself repeating for the utmost time. "But there is someone you can call for me."

* * *

><p>And now I have the theme from "Ghostbusters" stuck in my head. Anyway, I've been kind of bored with writing fan-fiction lately, but I'm still slogging away at this, lol. All OCs are irrelevant. Still not happy with Dante's characterization, but decided to leave it in as a comparisoncontrast to Lady's perspective. Probably needs a re-write. Dante and Lady's relationship issues, both past and present, will be clarified as I go along, haha. Please review and let me know what you think of this; what worked, what sucked, what needs more detail, etc.


	4. Running

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry or Paranormal Activity. Rated M for language, violence, blasphemy, sexuality, and disturbing content.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed or added this to faves/alerts. Much appreciated. Sorry for the wait, again. I watched the second PA film and although it had some interesting scenes, overall it kinda made the first film not really scary anymore. OC roles are extremely minor, though sometimes contain jokes about literature. Initial lyrics are from Placebo's "Running up That Hill." Also, Kate Miller-Heidke's "The Devil Wears a Suit" is an awesome song. :D

* * *

><p><span>Hail Mary<span>

_You don't wanna hurt me  
><em>_But see how deep the bullet lies  
><em>_Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder  
><em>_There's a thunder in our hearts, baby  
><em>_So much hate for the ones we love?  
><em>_Tell me, we both matter, don't we?_

Something was breathing on her.

Something was right beside her, in the narrow shower stall of Bulgakov's gym, underneath the warm cascade of water. Lady couldn't see it, but her skin crawled at the thought of it. She suppressed a shiver as each exhalation, light and soft as a span of silk, met her flesh. A puff of air, barely noticeable at all, met her clavicle and ghosted downwards over her breasts. Her nipples tightened uncomfortably, and she pretended not to notice, tried to suppress the shot of adrenaline that spiked into her veins. _Don't feed it._

Lady lifted her hands slowly, rinsing the last of the chlorine out of her hair, and tried to think. It was difficult; she was, admittedly, creeped the fuck out. She knew the young clerk was right on the other side of the door, waiting with a towel and her clothes. The urge to protect the girl forced Lady to control herself, even as every instinct she had was screaming at her to run for it, to panic and flee blindly as far as she could go. It wasn't a feeling she usually experienced; around demons, rage and contempt usually dulled her to anything other than a calculated assessment of the amount of danger she was in, and how to gain the quickest, most efficient kill.

The lithe woman closed her eyes, determined to stay calm, wondering if the demon or whatever it was knew that she knew it was there. It must've stayed after attacking her in the pool, following along as she and the clerk contacted Dante, and then headed to the showers. Everything about this was confusing, and that pissed Lady off. It could've killed her, drowned her at the bottom of a cold pool in a grimy gym. Instead, it had waited until the lack of oxygen drove her unconscious and then scratched and bruised and bit at her. Not that anyone could've told now; Lady's skin was smooth and unblemished save for her old scars once more. _There's no proof of an attack except for my word and that of a panic-stricken girl. Like it doesn't want anyone to believe me…_

A chill like a draft of winter air washed over her, displacing the steam of the shower with a cloying coldness that forced a gasp from the huntress. She shivered involuntarily, and something breathed heavily against her throat, as though it meant to nestle its face, if it had one, into the crook of her shoulder like a lover would. Disgust curled in her belly, and Lady's hands clenched into fists.

"Get out of here," she growled, softly so the clerk wouldn't hear. There was no response for a moment, no sound but the flow of water from the shower. The rhythm of the breathing stopped, and for a long moment Lady felt nothing. She wasn't naïve enough to relax; her nerves still hummed with electricity, and her spine felt lined with ice despite the warmth of the water. _What if it decides to toss you around like a ragdoll? What are you going to do to fight it then?_ She caught herself wishing for Dante's presence, however inane, and immediately stopped herself. _You are _not _depending on him for anything. Deal with this yourself. _

The touch, at first, was so light Lady almost didn't notice it despite her heightened state of awareness. A little pressure at her throat, less perceptible than the breathing had been, increased a second later into the full sensation of sharp teeth. Lady froze, torn between the urge to bolt for the door and the fear that the pinpricks of pressure would close on her flesh, crushing her windpipe before she could get away.

The huntress stood rigidly, chin lifted slightly, knowing that this threat was a display of power. Her breathing escaped her control for an instant, her chest heaving as she gulped in a lungful of air before she could stop herself. Her throat felt tight, squeezed, as though she'd taken a direct hit to her trachea. She swallowed, enraged, and felt the teeth tighten slightly, their tips sharp as needlepoints. Something icy brushed over her breasts and down across her belly, slick and cold enough to feel like a burn. _This thing is so fucking dead._

A second later the sensations were gone and the temperature normal, and Lady scrabbled at the lock on the stall without bothering to turn off the taps. She heard the clerk shriek, and a loud bang echoed through the room as though a water pipe had exploded overhead. Lady nearly fell over the girl, who clutched at her in near hysterics, sobbing.

"Didn't you hear me? I was yelling for the past five minutes, and I hit the door, and I was freaking out, and…" the clerk trailed off into nonsensical whimpering. "Why didn't you answer me? All the shower stall doors were swaying open and slamming shut, like there was some sort of draft in here. Didn't you hear it? What's wrong with you!"

* * *

><p>Lady looked like she'd been chewed up and spit out. Her skin was pale to the point of being vaguely greenish, and one arm clutched the back of her chair as though it was the only thing holding her upright. Beside her, a young girl with Eastern-European-type cheekbones anxiously hovered. Both women exuded a sense of damp; their hair was wet, dripping onto their shoulders. Each held a towel, but neither seemed to be overly interested in using it. Dante watched them through the gym's glass doors for a moment, trying to figure out just what was going on.<p>

He'd admit to feeling the dread that had frosted his insides ever since the phone call. Lady was the toughest woman he'd ever met, but she was still human. Her thin flesh would open under a talon or blade like a hot knife through butter; her bones could shatter, splinter, take months to heal. He'd patched up her wounds before, stitched her skin back together, and he must've always looked nauseous while he did it 'cause Lady would laugh at him, no matter how badly hurt she was. Dante was no stranger to gore, and had no problem practically bathing in blood if that was what it took to get the job done. But if it was _her _blood, well. _That_ was different. The scent of her blood brought back unpleasant memories of Vergil, and Arkham, and Lady screaming in pain, bleeding out onto a labyrinthine-patterned floor with a knife through her thigh.

Lady's head snapped up when he entered the room, looking both grim and slightly embarrassed. Her standard attire, a pleated dark grey skirt paired with a white blouse, clung to her curves as though she hadn't toweled dry before dressing. The sides of her high mahogany-coloured boots gleamed with moisture. Dante strode towards them swiftly, realized halfway there that the clerk had backed away in fear, and stopped abruptly.

"Alright, Lady?" He asked, keeping his voice low. He didn't move closer until he was sure the clerk wasn't going to scream or bolt for the door. "What spooked her?" He nodded at the girl.

"It's been a weird night," Lady sighed wearily. She turned to the clerk and motioned her nearer. "It's okay. He's the guy you called for me."

Dante gave his most-charming and least-threatening smile and got a wary look in return. He decided to ignore the girl in favour of studying Lady, who still hadn't moved from her hunched position on the desk chair. He weighed the possible risks of getting kicked in the chin, and then crouched down in front of her. Something had to be wrong. The huntress did not just call him to pick her up. Ever.

"She insisted on calling someone to come get me. And then..." Lady's voice was gravelly, and she coughed to clear it. "Things have been a little strange; maybe we should walk her to her car." Lady's expression reminded him of the time they'd slaughtered a dozen hell-prides in the basement of a preschool filled with youngsters. It was a "Let's not scare the children" look that demanded quiet efficiency and subtle communications. Not Dante's strong point, really.

"Can you walk?" he blurted. His initial relief at finding the huntress alive and mostly okay was rapidly mixing with the whole mess of other emotions that warred in his head when she was around. _She wouldn't have called if she didn't need help, even if she didn't really want it. You know that much. _Lady glared at him.

"Yeah. I'm tired, not crippled, for fuck's sake. Let's get out of here." Lady hauled herself to her feet, staggered a bit, and warned Dante off with a look when he moved to assist her. She turned to address the girl.

"Do you need help locking up, Margarita?"

"No," the girl stammered, swallowing nervously. "No, everything's done. I left a note about the showers."

"But not about me?" Lady prompted.

"No. I- I won't mention that. He won't believe me as it is, anyway."

"Good. Now, if you'll show us where you parked, we'll go with you to your car." Lady squared her shoulders, looking nothing less than entirely business-like despite the way her boots squeaked on the linoleum floor. Dante, having watched the entire exchange thoughtfully, glanced sidelong at the huntress. She shook her head with a miniscule gesture than anyone else would've missed, and he decided to save his questions. Lady might take pity on him later and explain herself. Ha. Right.

* * *

><p>They were a block from Lady's apartment when the exhausted huntress stumbled over a spill of gravel on the sidewalk, and Dante couldn't stop himself from reaching out to catch her. He wound up with the full length of Lady's petite frame pressed against him, damp and shivering, and decided that if he was going to be gutted for this, he might as well deserve it. He wrapped her into his trench coat, his arm locked around her tiny waist, and pretended not to hear the inevitable protest or feel the sharp elbow expertly jabbed into his solar plexus.<p>

Once at her building, he relaxed his grip enough that she could fumble around and find her keys. He shoved the heavy door open for her, following her inside without waiting for an invitation. She seemed past caring at this point, anyway, and he shadowed her as she listlessly climbed the six flights of stairs, driven on, he assumed, by sheer force of will. She let him into her apartment, locked the door behind them, and turned, arms crossed over her breasts, to face him.

"Something's after me," she stated simply, her mismatched eyes gauging his reaction. "And if you say anything about me being stressed out or working too hard, I'll kick your ass right here." She didn't look well enough to be kicking anyone's ass, let alone his, but he had enough sense not to argue.

"Okay," Dante offered. It was all he had. He waited, but she didn't continue. Instead, she spun on her toes and staggered towards her sofa, collapsing on it as though her legs simply could not hold her up any longer. Her dark hair was still damp and mussed, and Lady brushed it aside carelessly.

"Drowning's a bitch," she mumbled, her normally-clever fingers numbly unlacing her boots. Dante sat down beside her, not wanting to say anything because it would surely be the wrong thing. When she'd picked the knots in the laces apart, he reached down and tugged off her footwear for her. The huntress' bare legs were warm and smooth to the touch, and he left his hands on her as long as he thought he could get away with.

Lady glanced at him and brushed his hands away, looking as though she was halfway to delirious. She seemed engulfed in a fatigue that was slowly overtaking her will to fight it, and Dante couldn't help but wonder what she'd meant about drowning. Lady fixed her gaze on the floor as she began speaking again. "Something attacked me at the pool. That's what spooked the clerk. It was more than…" The huntress stopped, biting her bottom lip pensively. "It's gone beyond what can be explained away as just random occurrences. I mean, a few weird happenings around here are one thing, but this was definitely a manifestation of sorts."

Dante raised one eyebrow, considering. "Are you sure, though? I mean, I only left about an hour ago. There was nothing here that could've harmed you. There's still nothing here" he gestured around the small room for emphasis, "that's demonic. Believe me, if there was, I'd tell you. You know that. And demons leave a …residue, of sorts. A sign of their previous presence. And there's nothing like that around you."

Lady turned to regard him, her eyes unreadable. "It followed me to the pool, Dante. I tried to explain it away. I thought, maybe the water jets are acting funny, or maybe the heaters are busted, or maybe I am stressed, like you said, and imagining things. I thought up a half dozen reasonable explanations for the phenomena, and then it dragged me to the bottom of the pool anyway. I mean, fuck, I'm running out of non-demonic explanations here." She stopped again, abruptly, a frown creasing her fine features, and Dante got the impression that there was a lot more to this, that she wasn't telling the whole truth. _When does she, ever?_

The huntress coughed raggedly enough to make Dante wince in sympathy, wondering how much water was still in her lungs. He didn't offer to take her to the hospital.

Lady yawned and moved suddenly, gripping the arm of the couch to haul herself to her feet. "I don't care if you don't believe me," she began, looking as though she _did_ care, very much. "But if you wanted to make yourself useful…" The huntress trailed off, and Dante stared at her dubiously, not quite believing what he was hearing. _Something's got her spooked, that's for sure._

"I'll stay here tonight if you want, babe," he offered quickly, figuring that he'd get _shot the fuck down_ and then sent on his way to do _research _or whatever it was that Lady considered a worthwhile activity. He glanced back at the lithe woman in time to see her watching him thoughtfully, her mismatched eyes indecipherable, her expression haggard. He wondered, for the umpteenth time, how he'd managed to have her and then lose her, and what kind of cruel god was laughing at him over that. _Although thinking that she'd ever really belonged to you at all was probably your first mistake._

Lady turned with the careless grace of an extremely exhausted professional dancer and headed towards the narrow hallway. "C'mon, then," she tossed back at him. "I'm not sleeping on the couch again after last time. You'll have to stay in here, with me."

Dante waited for the snarky follow-up comment, one that would put him in his place and keep him at arm's length, but nothing materialised. He toed off his boots and trailed after the huntress, refusing to acknowledge the knot that was tightening inside his chest.

It hurt to be in bed with her without being able to touch her. It wasn't even the sex he missed so much as the opportunity to curl up around her, let her sleep safely in his arms. She wouldn't allow it anymore, and she wouldn't tell him why. He could only offer guesses that were always incorrect, and that pissed her off, and seemed to reaffirm to her the rightness of her decision to stay away from him.

"You've got a plan then?" he questioned, trying to ignore the fact that she'd undressed in front of him as though he didn't exist, that she was right here beside him and yet somehow everything was still so wrong. The room was warm, the colour scheme soothing, and he couldn't figure out why Lady looked so filled with dread.

"Yeah. I'm gonna sleep, and you're gonna watch out for shit, or something."

Dante smirked at that, but Lady wasn't even looking at him. She curled up facing away from him, all nice curves and warm skin, easily within reach but still untouchable. He rustled around until he was comfortable, sitting up and putting his back to the wall so he could scan the room easily.

"Alright, Lady. Goodnight." He sighed, trying to relax and not sound bitter.

"Don't let it touch me," she whispered, already more asleep than awake.

* * *

><p>Sorry that this chapter was more about Dante and Lady's screwed-up relationship than the demon-thing. Next chapter should fix that, lol. Also will have more info on why Lady treats Dante like she does, despite her musings on the subject in chapter one. And sorry about not writing longer chapters, but hey, at least the lengths are kind of consistent. Um… let me know what you thought of this… And, kind of a weird question, but, is the pseudo-sexual nature of the demonic attacks disturbing in the right kind of way? Haha does that make any sense? I fail at this. :)<p> 


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